


Odyssey on Odyssey

by cerie



Category: Sanctuary (TV)
Genre: 113 Years, AU, F/M, season four
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-17
Updated: 2013-01-17
Packaged: 2017-11-25 19:36:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/642301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cerie/pseuds/cerie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Will ends up killing the rest of his shift and half the next talking to her, discussing his favorite theories and shooting down some that he finds utterly ridiculous.  They both have a nice long laugh over Freud before he gets bold and asks for her number.  Helen shakes her head and presses her lips against his cheek, then his ear, and when she whispers her voice is low and husky and sends a chill down his spine.</p>
<p>“There’s no need to ring me, Will.  I’ll always come back.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Odyssey on Odyssey

**Author's Note:**

> AU: Helen checks in on Will during her 113 years and just can't help herself from wanting more. Set during the time Will would have been in grad school, so late 90s/early 00's.

_1\. odyssey on odyssey and land over land_

She comes in like clockwork on Thursday night and sits in a corner booth, alone, and orders white wine. Will’s actually gotten the boss to start ordering nicer bottles since his blonde has started coming in and while he’d been skeptical about the request, he’d relented when he saw how regular a customer she was. It’s weird to have someone drinking white wine in an Irish bar but the blonde isn’t exactly a normal woman.

Take, for instance, the night a few weeks ago when a drunk had gotten handsy and started pawing on her. Will had been a few moments from going over and handling it himself when she neatly twisted and pinned the guy’s wrist against the table and warned him to never come near her again in a low, menacing voice that seemed that much more chilled when paired with her cool, clipped vowels. 

Will’s lost himself in watching her again and when he sees that her glass is empty, leaves the bar and collects her glass himself instead of sending one of the waitresses to do it. He flashes her a quick smile.

“So, I’ve been trying to decide what your name is since you always pay in cash and I don’t have a card to lift it from,” Will starts, hoping it sounds flirty and not creepy. “And I decided I was going to call you Grace. So I’m going to be really disappointed if it’s _not_ Grace, because I’ve got this huge backstory built up for Grace in my head and it’s going to be a hard sell if that’s not actually your name.”

‘Grace’ gapes at him for a moment, eyes big and round, and shakes her head. “Ah, no, it’s not. My name is Helen, actually. Helen Ma...Bancroft. Helen Bancroft.” Helen Bancroft is just the kind of old-fashioned name he’d pegged her for, especially since his nickname for her had been in homage to Hitchcock’s favorite blonde.

“Helen, then. My name is Will.”

When he shakes her hand, it feels like the spark of something familiar, not someone new and mysterious, and Will wonders just how attached he’s gotten.

_2\. creeping and crawling like the sea over sand_

After he finally got up the stones to introduce himself to Helen, she starts showing up a lot more often. His favorites are when she shows up for the traditional Sunday brunch bright and early, when it’s slow, and he gets the chance to actually sit and talk to her. She has a book with her today and reads it while pushing her biscuits around her plate. Will leans in and checks the spine of her book before looking back up at her, utterly impressed.

“You read cognitive psych for fun? What kind of job do you have anyway?” Will is pretty sure that none of the women he knows read Pinker just for fun. It’s another piece in the puzzle that is Helen Bancroft and he likes it. “Please tell me you’re not actually lecturing at Tufts and I just haven’t noticed you. I know I’m an idiot for overloading but...”

He’s trying to get through as fast as he can. He’s doing an accelerated master’s program and he’s already taking the MCAT and hoping like hell that it pays off and he gets to be a psychiatrist someday and not some shmuck with too many student loans working at a bar for the rest of his life. Helen, for her part, puts down the book and arches a brow. Her mouth curves into a perfect smile, accentuated by deep red lipstick.

“No, I don’t lecture. I’m independently wealthy and have a very eclectic reading list. This book was very nearly a Pulitzer winner, I thought it deserved a shot. I presume since you recognized this you’re in academia, then? What do you study?”

Her voice has a little lilt to it, almost like she has an accent and she’s trying to cover it up, and Will wants to know what she sounds like when she’s relaxed. He turns a chair around backward and settles in it, flashing her a smile.

“Psychiatry, eventually. I’m doing a masters in clinical right now and I want to go to med school. Already practicing for the MCAT. Which...you are probably going to find really boring if I go into any more detail about it.”

Helen shakes her head and tucks her sleek, blonde hair back behind her ear. “Actually, no, I believe you’ll find that I’m both interested and I can keep up. Go ahead and try me?”

Will ends up killing the rest of his shift and half the next talking to her, discussing his favorite theories and shooting down some that he finds utterly ridiculous. They both have a nice long laugh over Freud before he gets bold and asks for her number. Helen shakes her head and presses her lips against his cheek, then his ear, and when she whispers her voice is low and husky and sends a chill down his spine.

“There’s no need to ring me, Will. I’ll always come back.”

_3\. still I follow the heartlines on your hand_

It’s pouring rain and St. Patrick’s, their busiest night, so he’s surprised when he sees Helen come in. She’s less than perfect, having gotten drenched from the rain, and Will takes one look at her and shakes his head. He nods at Becca, the other bartender, and takes his ten minute break to tend to Helen and get her something hot to drink and something warm to wear.

Conveniently, he rents the loft above the bar and while it’s noisy sometimes, Will likes it. It’s cheaper rent than anywhere else in Boston and that’s always a concern. Besides, it’s a quick trip to either work or class and keeps him from needing a car more often than not and less money spent is always a good thing.

He slides an arm around Helen and leads her up the narrow stairs, not wanting her to miss a step and fall, and shows her around his microscopic place. Hers is probably big and fancy with an open floor plan and plenty of natural light but he doesn’t have the luxury of being independently wealthy and funded on thin air like she does. It always makes him a little worried for her, a little protective, like he needs to shelter her from the concerns of the real world. Still, seeing how she’d handled that guy a few months ago...maybe his concern isn’t really needed.

“Um, here’s the shower and you’re welcome to anything I have. I think I’ve got some oversized stuff if you want that or some stuff some old girlfriend left...”

Helen laughs and waves him off. “I can manage, Will, I promise. Do you mind if I stay until you get off shift? I don’t feel like venturing out in whatever I can scrape up in your closet.” Will would be offended if her nose wrinkle wasn’t so damn cute and he shakes his head. “Nope, help yourself. I’ll be back in a couple hours.”

It’s pushing 3 AM before he stumbles upstairs again, bleary eyed and worse for the wear, and when he does, he finds Helen curled in the center of his bed sobbing uncontrollably. It’s not normal for her since she’s normally very cool and collected but instead of asking if she wants to talk about it, he just settles beside her and rubs her back gently through the worn, soft material of what suspiciously looks like one of his old Harvard t-shirts that’s about five sizes too big and only good for sleeping in.

After a long while, Helen reaches for him and tugs him down into bed with her and he’s hardly the type to refuse.

_4\. this fantasy, this fallacy, this tumbling stone; echoes of a city that's long overgrown_

She’s gone the next morning when he wakes up and there’s no sign Helen was even there other than a hastily-written note propped on his bedside table. Will grins at the bright red lipstick mark she left behind, a little kiss for him, and thinks maybe this relationship has some potential. He hasn’t dated anyone since Jess and it might be nice to have something again. He’s never been with an older woman before, though, and that part is equal parts intriguing and scary.

He doesn’t really think anything of it when she doesn’t show up in the bar that night but when one night turns into three and a week turns into over a month, Will starts panicking. He doesn’t have a phone number or an address for her because Helen had refused it and while he’d thought that was mysterious and sexy at first, now he’s honestly scared. Is she married? Has the husband found out and kept her from going out? Has she moved and just not told him?

He’s pretty sure you’re not allowed to file a missing person’s report for someone you don’t technically know anything about but it’s _Helen_ and he feels a deeper connection to her than anyone he’s ever met. It’s a friendship, a relationship and something else all rolled into one and it’s every happy and safe feeling he’s ever felt. The spring slides into summer and Will’s studied for, taken, and gotten the scores back on his MCAT. He applies to med school on the other side of the country, back in the PNW where he’s from, and decides on one while the summer melts on. The summers in Boston are hot but Will prefers them over the ice.

He prefers Old City over Boston entirely, except the part where Helen lives in Boston.

But Helen’s not here anymore.

_5\. your heart is the only place that I call home_

Will has just about packed everything for the move to Seattle (what little he has) and this is the last night in his apartment before he moves and starts over again. He’s always been good at reinventing himself, at being the new kid, and he doesn’t think that med school will be any different than the other dozens of times he’s moved over the course of his short life. He will be sorry to see Boston go, though, as he’s had good memories here.

Sometimes he still thinks about Helen, about her laugh and her smile and the way she always had a perfectly framed argument for anything they might have discussed, be it politics or religion or scientific theory. He misses how completely put together she was, how perfect, with just a hint of fragility beneath.

He misses how she smells. He regrets he never got a chance to see how she tastes.

He’s so wrapped up in memory that he barely hears the knock on the door and when it swings in, he wonders who in the hell is coming in on him. He always has it locked, so he bolts up and wonders if he ought to make a grab for the Louisville slugger next to the bed. When it swings in, Helen is there, perfectly framed in the doorway and there’s a bobby pin hanging in the lock.

“Ah. I suppose breaking and entering isn’t entirely the most polite way of going about things?”

Will shakes his head, incredulous that she’s _here_ and can barely form a thought before Helen’s in his arms and her lips are crushed against his. He’s wanted this for months and months and even his hottest fantasies are pale and wan against the real thing. Her body molds against his like it was made for him and while he’d suspected Helen would kiss with cool precision like she does everything else, it’s anything but.

Helen kisses like she’s drowning and trying to pull him under with her, a torrent of emotion wrapped up in equal parts passion and skill.

He doesn’t pay attention to much of anything until the clothes are off and he’s got Helen sinking down on him, eyes closed and long hair just skimming the tops of her breasts. There’s a little bit of moonlight filtering in from outside and it paints her silver, accentuates every perfect line and makes him feel like even more of a lucky bastard than he already is because he _has_ her when he thought she was lost forever.

When she moves, he moves with her, and he brushes his thumb against her clit in a lazy little circle to bring her over the edge. Helen is louder than he’d expect, free with her feelings, and Will’s suddenly really glad he doesn’t have any neighbors and the bar’s loud enough below them that nobody’s going to hear them over the din.

She comes, biting her lip just hard enough to draw a little blood, and he follows her there, rolling them once he’s finished so he can cover her in kisses. There’s a coppery tang on her lower lip and Will soothes it with his tongue, wanting to ease her troubles and heal her hurts even if it’s only for tonight.

“You came back,” he says softly. She nods and her fingers come up to play in his hair, lightly toying with a sweat-dampened curl.

“I always will.”


End file.
